


we could be fire

by buckystves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Craftsman Derek, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sterek Secret Santa 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:46:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckystves/pseuds/buckystves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek carves wooden figurines and has Laura sell them for definitely-not-enough money; Stiles is a little bit in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we could be fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/gifts).



> this was my gift for the wonderful [frek](http://www.frek.tumblr.com) for this year's sterek secret santa which, yes, I'm definitely late on posting up on here because I am beyond lazy. terrible posting etiquette aside, it was such a fun experience and I'll definitely be participating again next year if I'm able to. a belated merry Christmas/happy holidays and happy new year to all of you!

Stiles fell in love with the figurines as soon as he saw them. The little booth where they were being sold was tucked away in a corner of the flea market, in the shade of a large oak tree, and the woman working it was pretty and dark-haired and didn’t at all seem to mind the seclusion, though she perked up immediately when Stiles wandered over to her.

A smile tugged at her lips as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Hey,” she said, and gestured at the table, “see anything interesting?”

Stiles glanced up at her and pointed to one of the more intricate carvings, one of a large tree. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

Picking up the little figure, Stiles turned it over and over in his hands, running his fingers lightly over the delicately carved grooves in the wood. It was perfectly smooth to touch despite the rough appearance of the tree’s bark, and Stiles wondered how someone could manage to do that, how difficult it would be.

“That’s a tree in the woods near our family’s house,” the woman said. “Derek used to go there all the time when we were kids. He’d climb up as far as he could just to see if I’d follow him.”

The story brought a little smile to her face, and Stiles couldn’t help mimicking the expression. He set down the carving of the tree to pick up another, a smaller one of a crescent moon. “Derek?”

Laura blinked at him, and Stiles worried for a moment that he’d asked something he shouldn’t have.

“I’m sorry, did I-“

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” She laughed, and Stiles was immediately relieved. “I’m just not used to people asking about him, that’s all. Most people aren’t all that curious,” she continued, and Stiles nodded along, interested,

“So who is he?”

“He’s my brother. He made all of these things here, actually; that’s why I’m selling them.”

Stiles glanced down at the moon in his hand, smooth and beautifully shaped, and let his eyes roam over the assortment of other figures on the table. There were so _many._

“Don’t they take him a long time to make? Just, there’s so much to them, how doesn’t it take forever?” Stiles’ eyes were wide with awe, and the woman just shrugged.

“It’s what he does. Depending on what he’s making, he can knock out one, maybe two in a day?”

He blinked at her. shocked. “Holy _shit,_ ” he breathed, and the woman laughed. “How much are you charging for them, then? Jesus.”

“Around 10, maybe 15 dollars, more or less. Not much, really,” she said, and Stiles gaped at her.

“15? That’s it. Seriously. There’s no way.”

She shrugged again, shaking her head like she agreed with him. “It’s all he’ll take.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you- can you, like, force it on him? These are so well made, that’s nowhere near enough.”

There’s a glint in the woman’s eyes that years of friendship with Lydia and Allison had schooled him to recognize: she’s planning something.

“Hey, tell you what,” she said, and leaned her weight forward onto the table. “How about you come over for a visit and convince him yourself?”

Stiles, for some strange reason, felt compelled to agree. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do – he could be walking into some weird cult sacrifice, who knew – but it felt right.

“I’m Laura, by the way,” the woman – Laura – said, and offered her hand to shake. Stiles took it, and she grinned at him.

“Stiles.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Stiles.” She patted a stool next to her and he gladly took up the offer to sit down. They chatted for the remaining hour or so of the flea market, and a few people stopped by the table to admire Derek’s figurines; Laura explains whatever story behind each of them that she knew, and Stiles watched as more and more of the carvings were bought.

By the time he helped Laura pack up her table, all but three of the figures had been sold. He wrapped them carefully in tissue paper and deposited them into the little cloth bag that Laura handed to him, and it almost made him sad to have to hand them back to her.

After Stiles helped her to load the folding table into the bed of her truck, Laura invited him along for the drive back to her house – Derek’s house? Stiles wasn’t exactly sure.

“I assume you didn’t drive here,” she said. “You look like a local.”

Stiles shook his head. “Walked here. I live close, come down here every other weekend. It’s nice to see things that people made or found or just want to get rid of, watch them get new homes.”

Laura smiles to herself, and then reaches out to tap his cheek lightly. “I think you and Derek’ll get along great, you know that?”

Stiles is confused, but says “Thanks?” anyway just to cover his bases.

***

The drive to Laura’s house is a fairly short one, and mostly silent aside from the top 40 playing on the radio. When they arrived, Laura got out of the truck and motioned for Stiles to follow her inside.

“Derek’s workshop is one of the back rooms, off the kitchen. Give me a second to put these away,” she said, motioning to the cloth bag with the figures inside, “and I’ll show you.”

Stiles nodded, suddenly acutely aware of just how awkward he felt. He just agreed to go to a stranger’s home to what? Tell her brother off about the painfully low pricing of the fruits of his labour? Hardly. He didn’t know what he expected.

Laura leaned her head around the doorframe and smiled at Stiles, waving her hand to tell him to come in. He followed her through the main room and into the kitchen, and then down a short hallway lined with three or four rooms. When they came to the end, Laura gave a cursory knock to the door nearest them before opening it and stepping inside. Stiles followed, assuming that waiting outside would seem strange, even for him.

Inside the room was gorgeous, Stiles thought, truly a perfect workspace. There were a few paintings on the wall, landscapes of woodlands and meadows, and shelves lined with carvings exactly like those Laura had been selling earlier. On the far wall were several windows, letting light spill in from outside, and against them was a desk cluttered with sandpaper and carving tools and various bits of dust, likely by-product of the carving. Sitting there was a man, and though Stiles couldn’t see his face, the way his hands were moving to whittle away at the piece of wood as though what he was trying to create was already there just under the surface was hypnotizing.

“Hey, Derek,” Laura said, and when Derek turned to look at her and his hands stilled, Stiles’ breath might have caught in his throat. Derek was all kinds of gorgeous, and Stiles realized that he was _here,_ looking at Derek making beautiful things in a beautiful room and that he looked beautiful, too, while he was doing it.

“Hey, Laura.” Derek greeted her, and when his eyes landed on Stiles’ – who was still staring, god, he needed to stop that – the corner of his mouth quirked up in something of a smile. Stiles probably looked ridiculous. “Who’s this?”

“ _This,_ ” Laura said, “is Stiles. He wandered by the booth this morning and had a couple issues, so I figured I’d bring him back here to work them out with you himself.”

Derek arched an eyebrow. “Issues?”

“ _Dude,_ ” Stiles blurted out, and cringed; he’d embarrassed himself already. “You’re selling yourself so short.”

Derek looked confused, and Laura just snickered into her hand.

“Listen,” she said, turning and beginning to walk away, “I’m gonna make some lunch. I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t kill each other.” And then she was gone, the door shut behind her.

Derek just nodded absently, and Stiles hardly even noticed that she’d left.

“10, 15 bucks? Seriously man, that’s not even enough to pay for your materials, let alone your time. What the fuck.”

Derek seemed to catch on, and he just blinked at Stiles. “That’s your issue?”

“Um, yes?”

Derek went back to carving away, and Stiles became a bit distracted. The motions Derek made were so fluid; they seemed to come naturally, like using a knife to slice strips of wood into works of art was hardly even a skill at all. It was almost magical.

“Sit down,” Derek said, and Stiles moved closer to the bench and listened. “Just watch.”

And Stiles did, for 20, 30 minutes, maybe more; he lost track of time. When he eventually noticed that the motions of Derek’s hands had stopped, he realized that from the wood had emerged the head of a wolf, intricate and detailed and beyond incredible.

“These things don’t take me long,” Derek said, setting the wood and his tools down onto the table. “I make my sister sell them so cheap because these things, they’re nice. I know that. They make people happy. And I want them to be able to afford to have that; it’s nothing to me, but to them it might be everything.”

Stiles sputtered, a little bit in awe. God, he was perfect, he was-

“Will you go out for coffee with me?”

Derek, clearly taken by surprise, immediately burst out laughing. Stiles knew the feeling; even if he tried, he couldn’t understand where the question had come from.

“I- yeah,” Derek said. “Yeah, why not?”

Just asking that had drained Stiles and now, with the fact that Derek had said _yes_ , he could barely breathe.

“Fuck, okay, yeah, um. Now? Is now okay?”

Derek nodded and then they were off, and the figurines on the shelves seemed to be looking on with approval.

 


End file.
